The Hardest Story Ever Told
by Shieldmaiden wot
Summary: When little James Potter gets into mischief once again, George decides that it's time to tell the youngest generation about their Uncle Fred. R&R! [Deathly Hallows spoilers]


Disclaimer: These characters belong to J.K. Rowling, not me. Surprise! The song lyrics are from Mika's song "Happy Ending".

**The Hardest Story Ever Told**

**By Shieldmaiden wot**

* * *

"James Potter! Get down from there this _instant!_ What have I told you about playing with your father's broom? It's very dangerous!"

"Aw, but _mum_…"

"_Accio broom! Accio James! _And put those down!"

George heard a shriek as little James Potter sped involuntarily towards his mother. Putting the carrots he had just dug onto the windowsill, he glanced out of the kitchen window to see his sister Ginny striding in from the garden. Her left hand was firmly wrapped around Harry's old Firebolt, and her right was gripping the back of her son's sweater. He was dangling a foot from the ground and looking distinctly morose, but his expression brightened when he saw his uncle leaning against the kitchen counter. The little boy gave his uncle a conspiratorial wink.

George raised one ginger eyebrow. "What did you catch him at this time, Gin?"

"Don't pretend you don't know what's going on!" snarled Ginny, slamming the Firebolt into the broom-hooks above the door and depositing her firstborn on the kitchen table. Her eyes were flashing. "Stay," she instructed, and Summoned the carrots from the windowsill. James slumped, but his eyes were twinkling.

"Now, Ginny, how could you believe I'd lead your children down the wrong path?" George protested, taking a seat by his nephew. "No, I'm sure he thought up the little beauty all by himself. Right, James?"

James grinned but said nothing.

"You're lying through your teeth!" snapped Ginny, beginning to chop the carrots with such force that her son inched away from her. "That had Fred and George written all over -" she stopped short, and bit her lip.

James looked from mother to uncle in the sudden tension, confusion on his face, but each was momentarily silent.

"Mum, who's…"

He was cut off as the door to the kitchen opened and several children tumbled through. Albus and Rose shrieked with delight when they saw their uncle sitting at the table.

"Uncle George, Uncle George, have you brought us something?" asked Rose, her eyes shining.

"Yeah, I've still got that toad you gave me at Christmas, it's great!"

"Wizarding Wheezes are top-quality, young Al," said George gravely. "I assume it's still changing colour regularly?"

"You sound like Uncle Percy!" said Rose indignantly. "Are you all right?"

There was a snort from the doorway, and George swiveled to see Ron and a grinning Harry step into the kitchen. "Sorry, but she's right, mate," Harry said, and went over to his wife, shifting the red-headed toddler he carried to free up an arm for Ginny's hug.

"Your son," she said as Harry let her go, "was riding your broom _again_ today. And not only that, but he had a _boxful_ of Wheezes fireworks."

Harry turned to his son. "Is this true?" he asked sternly.

James scowled and nodded. "But I was going to put them down the chimney, it would have been _so cool_…" he trailed off when he saw the look on his mother's face, and sighed. "Sorry, Dad. Sorry, Mum."

George burst into laughter. "Inspired! That's quite brilliant, you know, James. You'll be giving old Filch a run for his money next year." He avoided his sister's eyes. "I wonder why Fred and I never thought of that," he mused. "They'd never have lit a fire again without looking up the chimney…"

Before Ginny could open her mouth, James asked the question that had been bothering him.

"There it is again! Who's Fred, Uncle George?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed together. "I think I've heard his name before."

"I have!" piped up Rose. "I heard Granddad talking about him once, he looked really sad…"

Ginny, Harry and Ron exchanged glances. Ron had gone pale under his freckles, and Ginny had drawn instinctively closer to her husband's side. Everyone looked at the red-headed man sitting in the corner chair, and waited.

George looked up and smiled shakily. "It's all right, you three," he said, and then looked at James. "I think I should tell them. It would be… an insult not to, especially since one of them seems to be following in his footsteps. Yes, I mean you," he clarified, pointing at James. "You're more like him than I realized, and getting more so every time I see you. Come on, duckies," he said, getting up from his chair and holding out his hands. "It's time you were told of the glorious legacy that awaits you in Hogwarts' noble halls."

James jumped down from the table and latched on to his uncle's hand; his younger brother followed suit. Rose pouted and ran after them as they disappeared into the living room.

Harry looked at Ginny and Ron. "Should we leave them to it?"

"I think I'd like to listen, he's never spoken about George before," said Ginny, and she looked at Harry apologetically. "You don't mind minding Lily a while longer?"

"N-no, of course not," said Harry, and he felt his throat constricting. "Go ahead." He turned to Ron as Ginny went to join George.

"I'm going flying," muttered Ron, and headed to the door. "Coming with?"

Harry looked at his hands. "I think I'll go over my Firebolt," he said. "See what the little rotter's done to it this time."

Ron grinned. "All right. See you." He was gone, indigo robes disappearing out the door.

Harry sighed and retrieved his Firebolt from the hooks above the door. Summoning his old Broomstick Servicing Kit from a high shelf, he began to go over the broom with polish and a soft cloth, losing himself in the work. If he listened closely, he could hear George's low voice speaking to the children in the next room. Sighing, he bent his head over the Firebolt, letting the painful memories of a terrible explosion wash over him like a red tide.

George paused before he began, and looked at the eager faces lined up on the couch. Then he leaned forward in his squishy chair and started to speak.

"Well, you know that your Granddad and Grandma had a lot of kids. "Ron and Ginny were the two youngest. Bill and Charlie were the oldest, and then Percy. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ron… they were all the good types. Prefect types, you know. But in between… there was us."

"You, you mean," said James, frowning. George smiled ruefully.

"No. Us. Fred was my twin. Fred and I," he grinned in spite of himself, "were the two biggest troublemakers Hogwarts has ever seen."

Rose's mouth had dropped open. "Ever?" she said.

"Well, to be fair, Harry's dad and his godfather Sirius were up there as well. But Fred and I certainly had the monopoly on tricks when we were at Hogwarts. Pranks, jokes, general ruckus, well-planned exploits… ah, those were the days. We started Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes when we were still at Hogwarts."

Rose had a very shrewd look on her face. "You know, I did wonder why the apostrophe is after the S and not before," she said thoughtfully. "It's for both of you."

George looked at his niece in alarm. "You're your mother's daughter, Rose Weasley," he said. "Otherwise you'd never have noticed that particular grammar choice." He sighed. "Yes, it's for both of us."

"What did he look like?" asked Albus, and James started to laugh.

"They were twins, weren't they?" he said. "Don't you know what twins means?"

Albus quieted, blushing a furious red.

"James, don't be like that," frowned George. "We could've been fraternal twins, after all. No, we were identical, Al. Even our mum couldn't tell us apart. Until I got my ear blasted off, of course."

The children shuddered. They had seen the great hole in their uncle's head several times, and they didn't like it. He usually kept his hair grown long enough to cover it up.

"When you said legacy," said James, leaning against the couch's armrest and propping his head on his hand, "what did you mean, exactly?"

George grinned. "Did I ever tell you about Umbridge? No? Well, in our last year, the Ministry sent a new teacher to Hogwarts. This is when they were denying You-Know-Who's return, and they wanted Dumbledore and Hogwarts under Ministry control. So they sent… Dolores Umbridge. She looked like a toad, and she had an awful little laugh, and her classes were even more boring than Professor Binns', and _he_ teaches…"

"…History of Magic!" supplied James. George looked at him in surprise, recognizing his excitement for his approaching first school year.

"Yeah," he said. "More boring than that. And when you had detention with her, which your dad got a lot because he couldn't stop himself from telling the truth about You-Know-Who in class, she had this awful quill which _cut you_ on the back of your hand as you wrote."

He stopped, having noticed the shocked faces of his small audience. "It's all right. She was the only teacher who did that," he said, and they all sighed in relief, James the loudest. "Anyway, she acted sweet but was actually evil, and so Fred and I decided to take matters into our own hands." He smiled fondly at the memory.

"First we set off all our fireworks… it would have made your stunt look tiny in comparison, James. Dragons, Catherine wheels, _really_ dirty-mouthed sparklers… it was brilliant, they lasted all night… But that wasn't the legacy, fireworks don't last that long. See, Hogwarts was horrible when Umbridge was there… she was Headmistress for a while. So Fred and I decided we'd had enough. We turned a corridor into a swamp – you've seen our Portable Swamps, right? – and when she had caught us, and she was about to let Filch whip us – I'm not joking, I swear, all the students were there – we Summoned our brooms from her office and escaped at the last moment. Our last bit of Hogwarts flying – we were Gryffindor Beaters when Harry was Seeker. It was our finest hour, that. They left a bit of the Swamp there when they finally cleared it up. Neville says it's still there."

George's eyes had the faraway look of someone who is lost in memory; a smile played about his lips. The three children were very still, waiting.

George shook his head as if to clear it. "After that we set up shop in Diagon Alley. It was great… Fred and I were born to pranking, really, and we never dreamed we could spend our whole life running a jokeshop." His face fell suddenly. "Well… that's not exactly right. We didn't both make it… he only got a few years…"

_This is the hardest story that I've ever told  
No hope, or love, or glory  
Happy endings gone forever more_

"Uncle George?" Rose's voice was timid as she came to stand in front of him. "Why… why have we never met him?"

George swallowed, and looked at her as if in pain. She clambered up onto his chair and he pulled her into his lap, holding her tightly as if to apologize for the cruel truth. "I was afraid that we'd get to that," he said. "You've heard about the second war, when You-Know-Who was defeated for the second time… all of your parents were especially brave then. Hogwarts was attacked, and we all went to protect it. It was where the last battle took place. Harry killed Voldemort in the Great Hall." George had forgotten his old reluctance to speak the Dark Lord's name in his consuming remembrance. "Fred and Percy were duelling Death Eaters when Ron, Harry and Hermione found them… they overpowered the Death Eaters. But then… then they said that more Death Eaters blasted through. Fred was killed in the explosion."

George was slumped against the back of the chair, and when Rose turned to look at him she knew that his open eyes were seeing something very different from the comforting warmth of the living room. "I felt it, as soon as he… left," said George quietly. "I found him in the Great Hall, where they had laid all the dead… a part of me left with him that day, and it hasn't come back." He stirred himself, and one of his shaking hands landed on Rose's red hair. "I don't… expect it to. Seeing him there, pale, lying next to Tonks and Lupin… Teddy's parents… I knew I'd never be the same. How could I go on with my life the way we had planned, when he wasn't there to live it too?"

_This is the way you left me,  
I'm not pretending.  
No hope, no love, no glory,  
No Happy Ending.  
This is the way that we love,  
Like it's forever.  
Then live the rest of our life,  
But not together.  
_

"George, I think that's enough," came Ginny's voice from the doorway. She sounded faint. George looked at her and smiled weakly.

"Your Uncle Fred was a brilliant man, kids. He died so that you could live without the threat of Voldemort hanging over your heads. You should be proud of him… especially you, James, you're very like him. I hope you'll find a partner in crime at Hogwarts. And do say hello to the Swamp for me, when you go."

"Rosie, James, Albus… why don't you go through to see Harry in the kitchen," ordered Ginny, standing up.

Rose slid from George's lap to land on the floor, and followed the boys to the door. She stopped before leaving, and looked back. Her aunt was perched on the arm of the chair, tears on her cheeks, and her uncle was holding her hand very tightly.

"Uncle George?" she asked, and he looked up with half a smile. "He sounded really fun, like you. I think… he died so _you_ could live as well. Not just us." Then she spun and ran to catch up with the boys.

Ginny let out a half-laugh, half-sob. "She's right, you know. He would have wanted you to keep having fun without him."

George leaned his head back, and his eyes were bright with memory. "I know," he whispered. "It's just hard… when half of you is gone."

* * *

I hope you enjoyed it... please review, I'd love to hear your comments! 


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